


Be Not Afeard

by fashi0n



Series: A Maiden Dark and Fair [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Also many more canon characters involved, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, By Westeros Law Girl!Jon is Not Underage, Canon character deaths, F/M, Fem!Jon Snow, Girl!Jon, I just got tired of tagging, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Incest, No Actual Sex Scenes, Period Typical Attitudes, R plus L equals J, Rule 63, Underage - Freeform, canonish timeline eventually, pre-canon timeline, robert/cersei are not a happy couple, this is set three years before Lord Arryn's canon death, well it is GoT guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fashi0n/pseuds/fashi0n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johanna Snow is fifteen years old when she is legitimized, married and brought south to Dragonstone and its dreary lord. The game is forever altered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a fill for the kink meme prompt:
> 
> “When Selyse dies Robert tells his brother he's going to find him a new young pretty wife. Stannis is not impressed when this turns out to be Ned Stark's legitimized bastard but marries her as commanded but sends her to Dragonstone to keep her away from Robert. On a visit home he finds much more welcoming chambers, a happier daughter and a younger brother willingly visiting, he takes time to get to know Jon and by the time he returns to court his wife is expecting. When their child is born Lord Arryn is very interested in the fact the baby has thick black hair..... Bonus points for R+L=J - Stannis finds out when Robert dies that GirlJon's father was Rhaegar who had taken Lyanna as another wife. So his claim to the throne is strengthened by his wife and houses who declare for him as his wife is a Targaryen Princess.”

* * *

 

_I loved a maid as dark as spring,_

_With shadows in her hair._

*

The girl was beautiful.

She stood tall and proud; unflinching and strong. She embodied the North. She was pale with raven hair, and her full, bright, red lips were the only real color to her face.  In that moment, Stannis Baratheon could easily believe the rumors that her mother had been Ashara Dayne: long claimed to have been the most beautiful woman in Westeros. There could be no doubt that she was indeed the beauty that the North had begun to whisper about. He found the girl to be radiant as she stood in the rare Northern sunshine.

Yet, Stannis did not wish to wed this beautiful child before him.

Familiar anger at his elder brother rose inside him. It seemed that there was always another humiliation, another insulting “honor” his brother and King could bestow upon him. Dragonstone, Selyse, and now - Johanna Stark, once Snow, his new bride. Johanna Stark, who had only just reached ten and five years of age.

He closed his eyes, pained.

Next to him on his own horse, Robert stiffened. The laughter his brother had been sharing with his groom died out and Stannis heard a shocked gasp leave the King’s lips.

 “ _Lyanna_ ,” Robert breathed, the reins jingling as Stannis watched his knuckles tighten around the dark leather.

Stannis’s mouth tightened. He did not remember Lyanna Stark’s face well, for he had only seen her once, small and stiff in death. Yet, as he looked harder at the girl, he could see that the resemblance was there. Well, perhaps it meant that Robert would not embarrass him during this wedding. Or perhaps it would be worse, this time around, with his brother bedding the bride and not a guest. He frowned darkly at the thought.

The girl her head proudly, meeting and holding his gaze. It was as though she were daring him to judge her or find fault. A smile threatened to cross his face at the sight. At least the girl had spirit, he would give her that. It would serve her well in the bleakness of Dragonstone, and his little daughter could use a companion with a healthy will in her. He hoped that she and Shireen would get along. He feared they would not.

Lord Eddard Stark stepped forward, his face so impassive that it seemed to be carved from stone. It was obvious to all that he was not pleased that his daughter, even his natural daughter, would be marrying a man more than twice her age, but he would not protest it either. Not when it was Robert who had decided, and not when it was so clear that Robert felt he was doing both Stark and Stannis a favor. How typical of him.

The tall man in black standing next to the girl reached out and squeezed her shoulder tightly, the girl turning her neck to look back at him. Stannis realized that the man must be Benjen, the First Ranger and younger Stark brother. Some would take it as a sign of love and respect that Benjen had returned from the Wall for his niece’s wedding, but Stannis rather sardonically took it as yet another sign of House Stark’s disapproval.

He glanced to Lord Stark’s side where Lady Stark was greeting Cersei - who was yet another person unhappy with being here. She clearly resented being dragged North for Stannis’s marriage and, truthfully, Stannis rather wished that Robert had left her and hers back in King’s Landing. Cersei’s comments about the matter had been loud and frequent, and it was obvious the Queen had not cared a wit that Stannis could hear her.

Lady Stark, on the other hand, had the same stiff look on her face as her husband. Stannis could not tell whether it was from having her husband’s bastard legitimized or if it was because she, too, was concerned for the girl. He doubted he would ever know.

Only the Lord Hand, Jon Arryn, was putting any effort into looking pleased with the event. But that was Lord Arryn’s way. He did not want to find fault in Robert and so he did not; he wanted to hold the Realm together and so he did. Stannis both resented and respected the man, his honor, and the love he heaped on an undeserving Robert.

He heard Robert dismount and Stannis sighed to himself as he followed. The King walked over to greet the Lord of Winterfell, his arms coming out to embrace his friend. Robert’s booming laugh echoed through the courtyard as he slapped a softer chuckling Stark on the back, then lingered with his arm around Stark’s shoulders. Arryn stood slightly to the side of them, his face soft and warm.

Stannis turned away from the sight, from the family Robert had made for himself in his younger days, and again looked to his betrothed. She was back to watching him with an intense look in her eyes; she looked dignified and unafraid, as proud as any Queen of old. He nodded to her in respect and she nodded back. Stannis fancied he could see a slight thawing in her demeanor at that. And then Robert, of course, spoke and the steel spine was back.

“And this is your girl, Ned?” The King straightened and moved toward Stannis’s bethrothed, into the girl’s space, and peered down at her. His smile faltered behind his thick beard.

Stannis frowned darkly again, but in addition to the hunger in Robert’s eyes, there was something almost soft and sad in his expression. Perhaps, in his melancholy over Lyanna Stark, Robert would behave himself. Lord Stark’s face grew grave again.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “This is my daughter, Johanna.”

“Your Grace,” the girl spoke in a clear, strong voice as she lowered herself into a perfect curtsey.

“As serious as her father,” Robert shook himself and turned back to Stark with another smile. Then he turned and beckoned to his waiting brother, “Come on, Stannis, greet her!”

Stannis felt the vein under his left eye begin to twitch, but he stepped forward nonetheless to greet the girl, as ordered. The entire courtyard grew quiet and all eyes turned to them. Stannis pretended not to see the smirk hovering on Cersei’s face. Davos shifted uncomfortably behind him from where he attended the horses.

“My lady,” he greeted her stiffly with a bow. He could not make himself be any kinder to his young bride, not in front of all the prying eyes upon them. It was simply not his way. He could not fathom exposing any of his vulnerabilities to these vultures.

“My lord,” she said in return and gave another curtsey.

She looked him in the eyes and he saw that, while there was an unhappy glint to them, there was no fear.

For now, it would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use the show’s more ambiguous ages instead of the ages in the books because, as this is set three years before GoT, I wasn’t quite able to make myself write about 12 year old Girl!JonxStannis, followed by 14/15/16 year old Girl!JonxStannis. Aging the Stark kids up by four years was the only way to get past that hurdle. So even then that’s not quite show accurate but I chose the ages I felt comfortable with, lol.
> 
> Also I change things as easily as D&D do so don’t expect a completely book or television faithful story. And I think I show my ‘The Tudors’ roots in writing this story so I apologize in advance. I couldn’t help it! Thirdly, I'm aware that someone else answered this prompt (and did much better with it lol) so check out Elizabeth_Blossom's work if you want to! I greatly encourage it :)
> 
> (Lastly, I suck at sex scenes so we just fade to black on those. Sorry if that’s a deal breaker. I might try my hand at smut one-shots in this verse, later tho. We’ll see)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: Edited at 7:00pm PST on 1/23/2015_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: This chapter is the same as the full work that was uploaded on 12/15/2014 when the fic was first posted all at once. It has been heavily edited and broken into proper chapters. Enjoy it if you reread~~_

* * *

 

 

The guests were settling into Winterfell. The clatter and bustle of a lively court could be heard clearly, along with the preparations for the welcome feast that would take place when the sun set, in a few short hours.

Never before had Johanna felt less like eating or attending revelries. Tomorrow evening she would be wed to a man twice her age and only a few years younger than her own father. And then she would be taken South, likely never returning to the North.

Her stomach twisted at the thought.

She sat in silence on her bed, her brother Robb sitting next to her. His face was as grave as their lord father’s. She had no words of comfort to offer her brother, nor he her. She could not even think of anything to say.

Since leaving the courtyard, the chill that had been in her heart from learning that she would be wed to the honorable and dour lord of Dragonstone had overtaken her completely. To her mind, it had stolen her voice and left her silent and adrift as a flake of snow on the wind.

Johanna couldn’t imagine how she was supposed to be feeling. Numbness had grown within her and she was at a loss for what to do. She was not ungrateful to be legitimized - because she was, oh she was – but she had never in her short life pictured herself leaving the North.

She had always thought it was the one good thing about being a bastard; the knowledge that she could stay in Winterfell. It was a childhood promise between her and Robb that he would find a man he favored among his guards and wed the two of them. She would never have to leave. It was so understood between the two siblings that she had contented herself to such a life. Even if in the darkest hours she secretly longed for the well-made matches her father would make for Sansa and Arya. But even then, she had only imagined  _Northern_  lords. Going south had never even crossed her mind.

In a way, Johanna felt that the gods were teaching her a lesson. She should have been more careful with her wishes and prayers. For, indeed, she had gotten what she had longed for most: the Stark name, but now she did not know if she could bear the price.

Would her husband be kind to her?

Father spoke well of him, but nerves twisted her left and right, leaving her feeling wretched. She wished for the steel she had felt earlier in the courtyard; the strength she had clung to in the days leading up to the king’s arrival, to return to her. She sighed and looked at her lap where her hands had started to shake.

Robb reached out and clasped her hand, clutching it tightly. She grasped it hard, relieved for the silent comfort her brother and closest friend offered. But suddenly, in a flash akin to lightning, she could not stand her thoughts. She wanted a distraction, anything, anything at all, to ease the nervous tension building inside her.

“Sansa must be pleased,” she began, her voice raspy. “The Prince looked to be quite handsome.”

Surprised, Robb barked out a short laugh, saying, “He looked like a right prick!”

A small smile grew on her face, “The Queen did not seem happy. She looked very cold in her thin silks.”

“Southerners,” Robb sighed, knocking their shoulders together.

They were each other’s closest friends and confidants. It had always been that way. They were Sir Robb and Sir Jo, defenders of the North; fighting as knights and taking their lessons together. Father had indulged their adventures until Septa Mordane arrived and Lady Stark insisted Johanna learn the arts of womenfolk alongside Sansa, and later Arya.

A lump grew in her throat as she thought about her siblings and she wondered if little Rickon would even remember her in a few years.

“You must always write,” Robb spoke suddenly, low and intense. “You must write and tell me everything. Promise me you’ll tell me if you are ever unhappy. Promise me, Jo.”

She shivered and held tight to her brother’s hand, the only warmth she could feel. “I will, Robb. I promise.”

The door was unceremoniously slammed open, making them both jump. Arya stormed in. Johanna sighed and gave her little sister a disapproving look, but Arya ignored her, a scowl twisting her face.

“I hate this!” she declared fiercely. “How can Father allow it?”

Johanna could say nothing to this; some part of her - the little girl who was convinced that her father could do anything - wanted to know the same thing. She wanted her father to swoop in and say she did not have to leave, that she would not marry this stern-faced royal. But she knew he could not.

“He doesn’t have a choice,” Robb said tiredly, as they had all told Arya in the weeks preceding. “Robert Baratheon is the King. Father cannot go against his King, and _won’t_ go against his oldest friend.”

Arya’s scowl deepened.

“Some friend,” she scoffed. “This is so stupid! I can’t believe they’re taking Jo away from us.”

She flopped down onto the bed next to Johanna. She did not say she would miss her sister, but Johanna heard it anyway. Reaching out, she tugged Arya closer and gave her a one armed hug.

“Are we hugging now?” came a gloomy voice from the doorway where Bran now stood. “I would like that.”

“Then come here, little brother,” Robb said gently, holding out his free arm. Bran went immediately to him and curled up, misery etched onto his features.

“I kept hoping they wouldn’t come,” he whispered Johanna’s own secret wish. “But they’re here now.”

“We’ll see each other again,” Johanna said, a fire blazed within her quite suddenly, chasing away the dread that had settled in her bones. “You will visit me and I will come back here, to Winterfell. Shall we make it a promise?”

“Oh, lets,” said Sansa, holding a squirming Rickon in her arms and a pleased smile on her face as she glided through the open door. “We should always come back to each other. After all, we are family.”

Johanna beamed, more pleased than she could say to hear Sansa’s words. Their once closeness had ebbed as Sansa grew older and learned what a bastard was; learned why Johanna’s presence brought Lady Stark unhappiness. It was a relief to know that Sansa, too, would miss her.

“Yes we are,” Robb murmured firmly as they made room for Sansa and Rickon. “And it is most certainly a promise. We will _not_ be parted forever.”

The siblings all pressed their heads together and Johanna tried very hard not to weep. She failed, of course, and Robb untangled their hands to wrap his fingers in her dark curls. She hugged him tightly, squishing Arya against them.

“I will miss you all very much.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: This chapter is the same as the full work that was uploaded on 12/15/2014 when the fic was first posted all at once. It has been heavily edited and broken into proper chapters. Enjoy it if you reread~~_

* * *

The first time Stannis spoke to his second wife alone, it was before the heart tree in the godswood of Winterfell, the morning of their wedding. An anxious Davos was both chaperoning the meeting and making sure they were left in private. Stannis did regret that he was causing his most loyal knight some anxiety, but this meeting could wait no longer.

It was by Ser Davos’s advice, after all, that he now approached her. When Stannis had railed against this match, during the long journey here, it had been Ser Davos who offered the most simple and the truest advice there was:

“Speak to her, milord,” the knight had told him. “Speak to her plainly before you wed, if that is the only way to ease your conscious.”

Ser Davos was correct. He needed to speak to the girl himself. He barely knew what he should say or how to approach her, but he knew he could not wed and bed the child without truly speaking to her at least once.

He found her in the godswood. He was unsurprised. Despite the sept, the Old Gods had a strong presence in Winterfell. The air itself was heavy with them, and nowhere more strongly than in these trees. Small wonder the Northerns were so pious about their gods. It was almost tangible, the taste of them in the air. Stannis shivered and cleared his throat as his heavy boots crushed against the undergrowth.

She was as nervous as he but still stood up to greet him and, again, she boldly met his gaze.

“My lord.”

“My lady,” he said in return. “We must speak.”

She nodded solemnly. “Will here do or would you like to go elsewhere?”

“Here will be fine,” he said, unable to help the curtness of his reply. He took a deep breath before forging onwards. “My brother, the king, has legitimized you and declared us to be wed. I wish to assure you that, though this was not my wish, you will have no need to fear me. Respect is all I ask for, in return.”

It was more vulnerable a speech than he would have preferred to make, but he could think of nothing else to say to her. The girl searched his face for a long moment, for something only she knew and seemed to find. Nodding slowly, she spoke.

“You already had my respect, my lord,” she said quietly. “Thank you for coming to speak with me. You did not have to, yet I am grateful that you did so. It speaks very well of you and your character, my lord, and I am wholly reassured by it.” 

Heat rose to his cheeks as he was flummoxed by her answer. All his life, he had craved the respect his birth gave him and found too little of it; with a few truthful words, he had found it in the most pleasing manner.

He looked away, profoundly embarrassed at the color he knew he was turning, and cleared his throat again.

“I am gratified by your trust,” he nodded to her firmly.

He did not flee, of course, but he did turn around quickly in the slick leaf litter, gesturing vaguely to Davos as he strode back to the keep. He left her standing there in the godswood, watching him with too keen eyes.

 

Mere hours later, he put his cloak around her and took her as his own.

She was radiant in her gown of blue, and the modest jewels she wore around her relieved Stannis at their simple prettiness. She was not weighed down by her finery, and it made her all the more beautiful. Men stared as she walked past them, quivered at her warm smiles, and, for once, looked at Stannis with envy in their eyes. He did not like the way Robert looked at her, however, but, fortunately, the girl did not either.

Instead, she stuck closely to Stannis’s side and, when not with him, she was with her brothers. She was quite happy to dance with each of them in turn, even the babe who was only two. That had caused some good natured laughter amongst the guests, but the girl had only laughed with them, twirling the little boy around. He thought better of her at that; it made him hopeful that she would not be repulsed by Shireen like so many were.

She had also taken a turn with his nephew, but the girl was evidently not pleased by him, her lips tightening into a parody of a smile at something the prince said during their one dance together.

“What did he say?” he murmured as the girl returned to their seats in the center of the hall. He was often not impressed by his eldest nephew’s manners, and had no qualms displaying it. Cersei was an overly indulgent parent and Robert an absent one - someone thus had to step in and try to ensure that the next king did not run completely wild and enforce discipline on the boy. He was afraid that duty would fall to him. Fortunately for Stannis’s peace of mind, Tommen and Myrcella were far more enjoyable company.

“It was merely a jape about our ages, my lord,” she said softly in reply. “Pray, do not be wroth. The Prince is very much still a _boy_.”

There was a subtle emphasis on the word ‘boy’ and he smiled at it and her tone. Pretty looks clearly did not mean as much to this girl as manners and respect did. It was a quality he had himself and was pleased to find in her as well.

“He will hardly be the only one to comment,” he remarked, unable to hide his bitterness.

“I know. We shall simply have to endure,” she said matter-of-factly before pausing and continuing in a softer tone, “husband.”

The words sent a fire racing up his spine, though he did not wish them to. It is too heavy a word, he mused.

“Indeed we will, wife,” he said instead, “Indeed we will.” 

* 

She wanted to shiver at the way Stannis Baratheon said the word ‘wife’. It held such weight to it, so formal and yet so true. They were husband and wife, now. She was now Johanna Baratheon, Lady of Dragonstone. The secret giddy feeling of having a legitimate name and title pulsed inside her and it was almost enough for her to forget her nerves.

And then she saw that the King was still staring at her and she felt her nerves twinge again. Johanna knew she looked a great deal like her late aunt - Father had always said so, though it clearly brought him pain - but she wished her lost aunt’s former betrothed would eye her in such a way that made her stomach sink uncomfortably. She took another deep drink of wine and blushed when she caught Lady Stark’s eyes.

Ever since the news had been announced, about her change in status and upcoming wedding, her relationship with Lady Stark had undergone a slight thawing. It became warmer than it had been since Johanna and Robb were small and running wild across Winterfell’s grounds. The news that Johanna would be leaving was a great boon to Lady Stark who, since having her own daughters, had long been ill at ease with having Johanna around at Winterfell.

Johanna tried to be gracious and understanding of it, but some part of her, the little girl who did not understand why, resented it. But her resentment had mostly faded away in the wake of Lady Stark taking her under her wing one last time, to treat her as a daughter again, to both reassure and teach her what she needed to know.

“Remember,” Lady Stark had told her. “Your conduct will reflect upon both your father’s house and your husband’s house. Always remember that. Their honor and standing are your sword and your shield, now.”

The words had been a little frightening, then, but Johanna found a certain comfort in them now. A sword and a shield were weapons she knew, though she had never been more than adequate with a shield. But she could do this, she knew she could. She could be as cool as the winter’s chill and as sweet as a southern breeze.

Lady Stark had taught her well and she had always been a diligent student, no matter what art she was learning.

Johanna snuck a glance at her husband. She felt a certain kinship to her him, after their talk before the heart tree. He was a man who desired respect, the same as her. Awkward as it might be, she thought they could get along well with one another.

She squared her shoulders resolutely and smiled warmly at the guests assembled before her. She would act as a true and dutiful lady would, as Lady Stark had always done, and would shame neither her lord father nor her lord husband. She would put aside her worries.

Of course, since one of the gods was having a joke at her expense, that was when King Robert stood up and shouted:

“Send the children from the room, Ned! It’s time for the bedding!”

Johanna froze. So did her siblings, turning toward her with wide eyes as the room erupted into cheers. Her husband was very quiet and as she turned her head to look at him she saw his dark eyebrows form a line and he set his glass down with a very audible thunk. Her father rose reluctantly from his seat. Feeling pale, her eyes sought out Lady Stark’s; her stepmother gave her an encouraging smile and nod. It lent her courage.

Johanna firmed up her courage and, as the room advanced and her siblings and the king’s children were ushered from the room, the Queen departing with them, she turned slightly back to meet her husband’s eyes.

They met each other’s gaze and each saw the other’s resolve. For an absurd moment, Johanna wished to grasp Stannis’s hand, though for her comfort or out of a sense of camaraderie she could not say.

But then the world spun away as Robert Baratheon literally picked her up from her chair. A startled laugh escaped her, the king echoing it in a boom and then her father, Robb and Uncle Benjen were there.

The ceremony passed in an embarrassing blur, the chill of the Northern air on her nude body and the king’s hands lingering in a way that made Robb frown, and then she was spun into the rooms set aside for Stannis Baratheon. And there he was, as naked as she.

Her face went completely red as she stared. Well, she thought to herself, he is certainly well endowed. Her face became even redder at that thought and, as a result, she missed whatever it was that her royal goodbrother said that made the merry crowd roar with laughter. But Stannis must have, for he scowled terribly.

And then they were alone. 

She swallowed hard but screwed up her courage sat up the ungangly sprawl she had landed in. She clutched the bedclothes around her, unsure if she should cover herself. He must have sensed her fear for all Stannis did was simply hold out his hand to her. She took it as he came closer, his knees hitting the edge of the bed. His calf brushed against hers. Hesitantly, she raised her left hand, her right still grasping Stannis’s, to angle his head down towards her. He let her lead.

Their first kiss was soft and short. It was sweet and gentle and made Johanna feel bolder. The chill she had been feeling receded and a fire bloomed in its place. Reaching up, she grasped the back of his head more firmly and kissed him once more, harder this time. She could be bold and she could be brave.

He pulled back to look her in the eyes. She clutched his hand tightly and gave him a smile.

“I am not afraid of you,” she said softly.

“Very well,” he said softly, his voice slightly hoarse. Then he was kissing her again, pushing her down until her head met soft furs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: This chapter is the same as the full work that was uploaded on 12/15/2014 when the fic was first posted all at once. It has been heavily edited and broken into proper chapters. Enjoy it if you reread~~_

* * *

 

 

Lord Eddard Stark sat alone in his wife’s bedroom, brooding as he watched the fire ebb. Catelyn had gone to see to the children, to make sure they were all well and ready for bed, and Ned knew that he should have accompanied her - he knew how unhappy his children were with Johanna’s marriage - but Ned could not find it in him to do so. Instead, he stayed behind, sitting on the bed, remembering the promise he had made.

_Have I kept my promise to you, Lya? I can no longer tell._

Johanna was a woman now. He had always thought he would tell her the truth after she was wed, but surely fifteen was too young of an age for such a secret. It was too young of an age to be a wife.

He could not imagine agreeing to such a thing for either Sansa or Arya.

_You should have put Robert off. Why did you agree?_

He had been afraid not to, afraid that Robert would press if he was denied and he would then discover the truth. Better for people to know he was Johanna’s father and believe Ashara to be her mother. Better for Johanna to have the protection of the Stark name. Better to let no one think too much about how much time Rhaegar had spent with Lyanna before dying at the Trident.

Johanna looked so much like her mother, so much a Stark of Winterfell. And as long as no one thought of Rhaegar in conjugation with Johanna, she was safe a little while longer.

_No. Call her by her true name._

Visenya Targaryen. Rhaegar’s legitimate child, the one he had so desired that he sung sweet songs to seduce Ned’s sister. He thought of the unassuming roll of parchment and the letters, hidden away with Howland Reed in Greywater Watch. They were such little things, to hold such damning words and secrets within.

They had spirited them away from the Tower of Joy along with the Dragon Prince’s last child.

Ned’s child now, as she had been for fifteen long years.

And yet a child no longer, not after tonight.

Catelyn quietly opened the door and entered, coming to join him on the bed. He drew her close, soothed by her mere presence.

“The children have gone to sleep,” she said quietly. “It took a while to soothe Robb, Arya and Bran, however.”

“They’re growing up so fast,” he said softly. “It seems like it was just yesterday I was holding each of them in my arms for the first time.”

He thought of that room again, at the top of the Tower, when Johanna had been placed in his arms for the first time. The smell of Lyanna’s blood had been thick in the air and Ned had choked on it.

He was still choking on it.

_You would hate this, wouldn’t you, Lya? You hated the thought that others would decide your fate. You would have wanted better for your only child._

“Ned?” Cat’s hand was cool on his cheek. He breathed in the feel of her.

“I promised to protect her,” the words slipped out in a whisper. “I swore it. I feel like I’ve failed.”

Catelyn stiffened. “You haven’t failed,” she said in a tight voice. “Johanna will be all right. Stannis is a good man, you know this. He will treat her fairly.”

“But will she be happy? I would never allow this for either Sansa or Arya. But I allowed it to happen to Johanna.”

Johanna, the reflection of his little sister with Rhaegar’s smile and Rhaegar’s gaze. Visenya, the princess whose birthright he had denied and stolen from her.

So many thought her personality to be a reflection of his own, but Ned wondered if he’d ever be able to see that for himself. All he could see were the ghosts that made her and it hurt. He was so proud of her, of who she had grown to be, and yet he wished Lyanna was there too, to see what her little girl had become.

Catelyn was silent for a long moment and he knew she did not like talking about Johanna, but Ned could not help it. He could not go to Jon and Howland was too far away. And, truthfully, selfishly, what he wanted right now was his wife’s comfort and her soothing presence.

“Johanna is strong,” she said abruptly. “She always has been. She endures adversary and is strengthened by it. She has an iron will, that girl.”

A chuckle escaped him. “Yes, an iron will.” _Her father’s will. Rhaegar’s will._ “It does serve her well.” _She is Rhaegar come again. Too serious a child; so grave and proper._

He remembered the one and only time she had played the harp. Ned had forbidden it instantly once he saw her play it; she curled her fingers as instinctively as her father had. She played like him as well, haunting and slow; for all her looks, Johanna was too much Rhaegar’s daughter for his peace of mind.

“I hope she forgives me for this.”

His sister had been a wolf through and through, with an iron core and a wild passion in her to match. Likely as not, Lyanna would not be happy with her daughter’s fate. Her will had always been her own and she would have wanted the same for her only child.

“My lord, Johanna is not angry with you for this match. She knows you have only done your best by her,” Catelyn said quietly but fiercely. “You take too much upon yourself, Ned.”

“Not Johanna,” he corrected. “Her mother.”

The silence that followed after Ned’s statement was deafening. He closed his eyes, remembering the night Catelyn had come to him, asking after Johanna’s mother, asking if it was Ashara Dayne. He had sent her away, then, forbidding her from asking about the subject again and his ever dutiful lady wife had obeyed him.

But, tonight, Ned’s doubts were plaguing him too much for him to hold to his long silence.

“She was wild,” he said quietly. “She valued freedom above all else. She cannot be pleased with me and my choices.”

“Is…” Catelyn trailed off before taking a steadying breath and trying again, “Is she alive?”

“No. She died shortly after Johanna’s birth. From a fever.”

He should tell Catelyn the truth now and then tell Johanna in the morning.

“I let Jo be wed without saying the name of her mother,” he said quietly.

His wife let out a low, choked noise. “Will you say it now, my lord?”

His throat closed up, tight. Words failed him. His hands curled.

“Robert can never know,” he whispered, his sister’s eyes - the eyes she had passed along to her daughter - staring at him from the shadows.

“What?” his wife asked in shock. “What does Robert have to do with any of this? He has already legitimized her; he won’t take it back now.”

“He has everything to do with this,” Ned breathed. “The knowledge would break his heart and enrage him beyond anything. He can never know,” he said, almost pleading. “I have not kept this secret because I wanted to. I kept it because I had to, to keep her safe. It is from Robert that I am keeping this treason from.”

Catelyn swallowed, hard. “It is treason, then? This knowledge?”

“Yes.”

There was a long moment of silence after Ned’s admission.

“All these years, I have wondered and feared this answer. I thought you would speak of a great and passionate love. I dreaded it. But never did I imagine you would speak of such dark things.”

_I did love her. I loved her from the moment our lady mother placed her in my arms and told me her name. I love her still._

“I loved her greatly, yes.” _If she wanted the moon, I would have tried to grasp it_.

He saw the hurt look in Catelyn’s eyes and his heart grew cold.

 “You are the greatest joy in my life, Catelyn. I hope you know this and that I speak truly when I tell you so.”

She turned to him, wondering at his words.

“I do not say it enough. The words do not come as easy to me as they should, I know this. But you have made me the happiest of men. You have given me five brilliant children and I could not, would not, give any of this up. That is why I keep my silence. Not to hurt you but to protect you.”

Catelyn was silent after that, clearly gathering her thoughts. Ned waited patiently and did not try to rush her.

“But you have hurt me,” she said softly. “Though I see now that it was never your intention. You say you kept this silence to protect me, but I wonder how that can be. I am your wife. Your treasons are my treasons. Do you not trust me?”

“I trust you,” he protested quietly. “I have kept this secret for too long, now. I do not know how to say it, how to tell it … this secret. The truth cannot be taken back.”

“Is it truly so bad?”

As last, he gave voice to his greatest and most selfish fear: “She will not be my daughter any longer, if I give voice to the truth.”

“Of course she will be your daughter! Giving a name to her mother will not change that, Ned. You are the only parent she has. Why would that change?” Catelyn was incredulous.

_But it will. She will be Rhaegar’s again. I held her while he never did. Her first steps were to me - her first words were addressed to me. She is mine, she is my blood. But she is Rhaegar’s child._

His words seemed to desert him and the truth clung to his throat.

“Everything will change. It is too great a truth. So many times I have almost said it, told you, told Johanna. But each time my words fail me. I am not ready to let go, not yet.” He laughed, bitterly, “I do not know if I will ever be ready. We will not be able to go back, she and I. Our relationship will be forever altered. I am not yet ready to lose her as my daughter.”

“You truly believe you will lose her as a daughter, if you tell her the truth,” Catelyn said wonder mingling with shock. “Ned, you won’t. She loves you. She will forgive you for whatever secrets you have kept because of that.”

“And will you?” he whispered.

Her eyes were tender as she leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet. “I will,” she whispered back, once they parted, “With your words tonight, I have already begun to forgive you. I might be angry for a while, once I know the full truth, but that is my right. It has been a long fifteen years that you have kept this secret from me. But, with time, knowledge, patience and a desire to forgive, my anger will die. I love you, Ned. That will not change.”

He held her close, her words a healing balm to a part of his troubles. “I love you, Cat,” he whispered. “My life with you has been a far greater blessing than I ever deserved.”

She chuckled then. “On that, my lord, we must agree to disagree.”

He smiled at her, helplessly captivated by her as he always was.

“I can wait a little while longer, now that I know you are willing to tell me the truth,” Catelyn said quietly, “Knowing that alone is a balm to my soul. I can wait a little while longer, until you are ready.”

“I have already asked so much of you. It seems selfish to make you, to make you both, wait until I am ready,” he said quietly.

“Let us be the judge of that,” Catelyn said instead, “But I am not being wholly selfless, my lord. I expect the truth before another fourteen years pass.”

He chuckled, already beginning to feel better. “That condition, my lady, I can freely agree to.”

He hoped Johanna would be as willing as her stepmother to let him explain at his own pace. For Ned wasn’t ready yet to look Johanna in the eyes and let her know the full truth of who she was and what he had done. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: This chapter is the same as the full work that was uploaded on 12/15/2014 when the fic was first posted all at once. It has been heavily edited and broken into proper chapters. Enjoy it if you reread~~_

* * *

 

 

Stannis woke with a weight resting against his right side. He peered blearily down at the dark, nearly black, hair and, for a moment, could not understand how this had come to be. And then memory returned to him and he remembered where he was and who he was with.

His wife’s face was smooth in sleep and she had curled up towards him in the night, her head on his chest. It was … oddly comforting, somehow. He and Selyse had never shared such familiarity with one another. It had always been simply duty between them.

And yet this girl had offered him her respect; she had given it freely to him because he had spoken plainly to her and told her the truth. And such _passion_.

He liked the fact that his wife was curled up against him in her sleep. She fit comfortably against him and it felt right, to have her there.

It embarrassed him that he was so easily undone, but it was a heady thing nonetheless. For a bewildering moment, Stannis found he could almost understand Robert’s desire to bed every beautiful woman and girl he came across; there was something about this quiet moment, in the early hours, with a warm and willing body in his arms that he could see himself wanting to keep.

He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of her breathing. He was so much at peace in this moment.

When he opened his eyes again, light was filtering in through the window. Carefully, Stannis eased the girl gently onto a proper pillow, not wanting to wake her just yet.

Privately, he doubted he could have a happy marriage this time around. A loving one – like that between the girl’s father and Lady Stark. Johanna and he got along, to be sure, but that was not the problem. It was him. He was not made for happiness, it seemed. It was not his lot in life.

Stannis rose, the air cool on his skin, and crossed to the window. Winterfell was just beginning to rise with the sun and Stannis imagined that it would be a few hours yet before any servants would be sent to discreetly check on them. Robert would mock if he avoided breaking his fast in the dining hall instead of a private meal with his new wife, but he would also mock if Stannis did exactly that. For once, he wished Renly was here. His youngest brother would likely take pity on the girl and be bold enough to distract Robert from his jests.

“My lord?” his wife asked sleepily. He turned to face her and noted she was still half asleep.

“It is early,” he told her. “You may go back to sleep. Likely no one will come to check on us for a few hours longer.”

“And you?” she murmured, politely hiding a yawn behind her hand.

“I am well, do not concern yourself. I am merely thinking.”

“Mm,” she hummed in agreement, already falling back to sleep.

It was done; they were wed now. He, a man who had never been known for his friendly and lively demeanor, now had a young and sweet new wife. And, if Stannis could read Robert at all, a brother who would not be able to contain his lust for her much longer.

They lingered in Winterfell for the first month of their marriage, the girl ever present in the company of her siblings, who seemed content to crowd around her and not let her out of their sight, so that the only time she and Stannis were alone in each other’s company was at night in their bedchambers. The youngest girl and the middle boy were never far from their eldest sister, visibly reluctant to not spend her last days in Winterfell alongside her.

They spent so long in Winterfell, that now that they were reunited, Lord Arryn and his foster sons seemed reluctant to part from one another. But, eventually, Lord Arryn recalled his duty to the Realm and, so, on a dreary afternoon, a full month since their arrival, the Court departed Winterfell.

The girl parted tearfully from her siblings and father and shared an amicable departure with Lady Stark which ended in a hug. She was in low spirits the first few days and remained close by Stannis as they traveled, but was soon drawn to Tommen and Myrcella.

The young prince and princess responded eagerly to her overtones and the three were content to play simply, but happily, during their breaks on the road. Joffrey haughtily disdained from playing, looking so much like Cersei when he did that Stannis had to bite back a remark, but a few times his boredom ruled and he joined in their games. On those days, the girl moved from a participant in their activities to peacemaker.

She managed, Stannis noted, quite well but it likely came from years of practice with her own siblings. Stannis remembered them all to be quite spirited, especially when the Greyjoy son was added to their numbers.

Most evenings she remained beside Stannis in their shared tent, but there were some nights she joined the Lord Arryn and his wife for supper. She was eager for stories of King’s Landing and her father’s more mischievous youth, something Lord Arryn was glad to share. Stannis did not begrudge the girl her little entertainments for they were harmless enough and well suited for the long journey south.

It was Robert, of course, who was the problem.

Well into the evening on their second week of travel, his young wife finally gave voice to her unease.

“My lord,” she said demurely, once they were alone in their tent. “I have some things I wish to speak with you about, if it would not trouble you overmuch.”

He thought he recognized Lady Stark in the girl’s polite courtesy. “You may go on,” he told her.

She drew in a deep breath, trying to control her nerves. “Your brother, His Grace, he is a … very boisterous man. I am flattered by his comments, however ill-timed many may be.” She faltered for a brief moment, no doubt remembering one of Robert’s japes and lewd comments made before his own children or in a large gathering.

“It is his way,” Stannis said in dark agreement. “You need not fear that anyone believes you to be enticing him. His ways are well known.”

She seemed conflicted at that. Relieved, yes, but not completely so.

“Will we be staying in King’s Landing long, my lord?” she asked, striving for a neutral tone.

“No. We will stay three nights, to allow for a feast there, and then continue on to Dragonstone. I will often have to return to King’s Landing but you need not accompany me until you are more comfortable doing so.”

She sat back, now looking pleased. “Thank you, my lord. You are very kind,” she murmured graciously, biting back a smile. He recognized it to be gentle teasing.

It sparked a rare feeling of light heartedness in him as well. “It is not kindness, my lady, but common sense. Robert is best taken in small doses.”

The girl laughed. 

* 

Johanna found King’s Landing to be more tedious than glamorous and she and her lingering girlhood dreams were disappointed.

She was beginning to find the Court to be tiring as well. The Queen’s acidic comments were only funny on occasion but the longer the journey south went on, the more Johanna began to tire of them. Still, she did not blame Queen Cersei for her bitterness; being married to King Robert, Johanna was sure, would drive anyone to such unkind manners.

Although, Johanna had found the Queen to have excellent taste in wines and had engaged in several pleasant conversations with her about them.

She had put such in her letter to Sansa, conveniently leaving out the part of what she and the Queen had actually been discussing. Let her little sister hold onto a few of her illusions a little longer, Johanna thought. She was much more aware, now more than ever, that a crown or a title did not make a person any less human and flawed.

Her letter to her brothers and Arya had been just as long as her letter to Sansa had been, filled with little details of her trip that she thought each would enjoy. Her letter to her father, with polite remarks to Lady Stark sprinkled in, had been much shorter.

Though she could not help it, Johanna was a little angry that her father would still not tell her the name of her mother. She was married now and could soon be a mother herself. Surely she was old enough to know!

But her father, looking much older and tired, had asked her to give him more time. He would tell her eventually, he swore, but not yet. Reluctantly, for the sake of her father as she did not like the haggard look he wore, she had agreed.

Also, Johanna was hesitant to inform her father how much she was beginning to dislike his closest friend, even if he was the king. She burned with the memory of his drunken attempts to kiss her, that humiliating first evening in King’s Landing.

Her husband had been furious and the Queen equally humiliated and angry. Her other goodbrother, Lord Renly, had been quite sympathetic, but it had not soothed Johanna. She could not wait to leave King’s Landing and had gently made that known to her husband, who swiftly agreed with her.

It was a story she had not written of to anyone in her family, not even Robb. To her brother, all she had written was that the king’s behavior had finally grown too much for both herself and her husband but that Robb must not tell their father, for such knowledge would only hurt him.

She would be more sympathetic to the loss that the king obviously still grieved for if he had not called her Lyanna and kissed her at the celebration feast of her marriage to another man - the king’s own brother! She could not stand it and Lord Arryn’s embarrassed apologizes had only made it worse. She respected Lord Arryn and enjoyed his company; she could not say the same about the king.

So, after as gracious a departure from the King and Queen as they could manage, they left King’s Landing after three nights and two days and continued onto Dragonstone.

She was looking forward to her first glimpse of her new home.

The home she would be the lady of. Nervous excitement welled up within her again at the thought. She knew Dragonstone was a dreary place, her father had cautioned her about that, but it did not matter to her. It was legitimate, it would be hers and that was all that mattered.

Dragonstone could be half collapsed and missing a roof in whole but Johanna would still love it.

Still, she was not prepared for her first sight of it.

It took her breath away in a gasp, the sight of the ocean stretching before her for miles with Dragonstone rising from the waves as imposing and dark as a true dragon. Its walls were carved from cliffs; its heights reached into the sky; and, like her husband, were stern and imposing, a warning to all who would threaten it.

But what Johanna could not tear her eyes away from was the sea. What little she had caught of glimpse of in King’s Landing was nothing compared to seeing it now. It dwarfed her imagination and captured it utterly.

It was beautiful and, for the first time, she understood Theon’s longing to see the ocean again.

“Dragonstone has its charms, my lady,” Ser Davos spoke to her in a low undertone. She had become very fond of the Onion Knight as he reminded her a little of her own father and so had chosen to ride between him and her husband. “You’ll get used to it in no time, you’ll see.”

“Oh,” she felt heat rise to her cheeks, “It’s not that, Ser Davos. It was just that I had never seen the ocean before this. I was not expecting it to be so lovely.”

A wide grin broke across the man’s face. “Aye, she is something, isn’t she? A man can easily lose his heart to her and never want for anything else.”

Johanna giggled before turning serious again. “I can see why,” she said honestly. “I imagine sunsets on the water are quite the thing to see.”

“The sunsets are always lovely here,” Ser Davos admitted freely. Her husband turned to look at her, his expression cautious.

“You are pleased?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded in return, “I am.”

He looked at her with a touch of disbelief but all Johanna did was raise her head proudly. Old and dank Dragonstone appeared at first, but Johanna was quite fine with that: she was now legitimately the lady of a great house. She would not allow herself to be anything less than happy. Life is what you make of it, she told herself her uncle’s words again. Her life would be good because she would make it good.

Lady Stark had done it and had been rewarded by it, like so many other women before her. Johanna would follow in their footsteps for she could do no less.

She took her first cautious step onto the ship and, for the first few minutes of sailing, remained holding tightly to the railings. Stannis came to stand next to her, watching her carefully.

Johanna took a deep breath as she grew more used to the motion of the ship. Slowly, she relaxed her grip. Stannis watched her, approvingly.

“How long until we arrive, my lord?” she asked, carefully taking her steps one at a time, determined not to fall or stumble.

“It takes half of an hour to arrive at Dragonstone,” Stannis replied, walking beside. He did not hold out his arm, letting her test her bearings on her own. “Are you ready to meet our household?”

“Yes,” she said, determined. “I am also most eager to meet your daughter.”

Stannis smiled sardonically at that, as though he did not believe her words. Johanna reminded herself not to take offense; given what her father had told her about young Shireen Baratheon, she could imagine few were eager to actually meet the girl.

But Johanna was one of them; privately, in her deepest hearts, she was determined to be a more loving stepmother than Lady Stark had ever been to her. It was years old bitterness that drove this desire and so she would never speak it aloud. It seemed too petty a thing to admit to.

They landed and, up close, the fading glory of Dragonstone both awed and saddened her. But even in its decaying state, Dragonstone captivated her. It felt a little like coming home.

The household was coolly polite upon introductions, but Johanna did not mind. They looked askew at her youth but Johanna was certain she would prove her worth in time. Her education had been in no way lacking, despite her not being trueborn. She would be as strong as the walls of Winterfell and as gracious as a spring day.

It was to Shireen, her stepdaughter and a girl around the age of Bran, which she looked to instead. The girl stood half in the shadows, trying to hide the grayscale scars upon her face. She was clearly nervous and Johanna’s heart went out to her.

She gave the girl a deep curtsey and smile and ignored the little girl’s surprised floundering at the gestures.

“Hello Shireen,” she said gently instead. “I am Johanna. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“And, and you,” Shireen stuttered, glancing nervously to her father, as though she could not believe someone was being so polite to her. Johanna resolved then and there that would change. Stannis gave his daughter a look that Johanna privately thought seemed much too harsh, but Shireen seemed to draw courage from it.

She stepped forward, still a little nervous and afraid, and curtseyed back to Johanna. “Welcome to Dragonstone, my lady. I hope you find it to your liking.”

“I do,” Johanna promised solemnly. “I find it very much to my liking. Will you walk with me, Shireen, and show me our home?” And having said so, Johanna reached out a hand to the younger girl. In her surprise, Shireen took it.

The household stirred in surprise and she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of Ser Davos’s smile. Tugging Shireen closer, she hooked their arms together as she had often done with Sansa, and turned them to face Stannis. Stannis looked to the two of them, arm in arm, and, for the first time in the two months Johanna had known her husband, smiled genuinely.

It was a rather nice smile, Johanna thought.

“I will see you both a dinner, then, my ladies,” he said to them and Johanna led both her and Shireen in curtseys.

“Until then, husband,” she said in agreement.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Father!” Shireen enthused happily. “We’ll see you at dinner!”

In the days and weeks following, Johanna spent a great deal of her time vigorously seeing to every inch of her new home. It was hers as Winterfell had never been and, for that reason alone, she would have loved it with all her heart. But, as she explored, Shireen faithfully at her side, she discovered that Dragonstone had a power all its own.

Most prominently, in taking consideration of Dragonstone’s charms, there was the War Chamber and the beautifully crafted sept. Both were places of majesty and history. Seeing the whole of Westeros spread out before her on top the Painted Table always left her feeling awed. She stood where Aegon the Conqueror had stood and it was a heavy feeling. More detailed than any other map in Westeros, the Painted Table was simply a masterpiece.

Johanna, like every lord and lady of Dragonstone before her, made her own updates to the map. The details of the North, she had discovered, were not fully accurate. Under her diligent eyes, Maestor Cresson and Pylos updated the North with the paths and holdfasts which had previously been unaccounted for. She also had a more accurate Winterfell made, cast in bronze and carefully installed. Stannis often joined her in her appraisal and study of Westeros. They would speak of the different regions and the history of each. Her lord husband was not the most eloquent of men but he was sharp and vastly knowledgeable about the laws and strengths of the Seven Kingdoms. Johanna enjoyed engaging him in both subjects. Looking at the Painted Table without him there was always a lonelier activity.

On her own, Johanna would have only given the sept a cursory glance. She had no interest in the Faith of the Seven. It was too strongly associated with Lady Stark in her mind. She did not feel welcomed within the walls of any sept, as a result. Shireen, however, was of that faith and Johanna wished to form a strong bond with the younger girl. She also desired to see to it that the Lady Selyse was not forgotten. Whatever else the woman had been, she had been Shireen’s mother. That was a priceless gift. Shireen had gotten the chance to know her mother, only for it to be unfairly taken away from her. Johanna was determined to see that gift honored. And so, when Shireen had shyly asked Johanna if she would like to accompany her to the sept, where Shireen wished to light a candle in honor of her departed mother, Johanna had agreed without hesitating.

Thus she joined Shireen in kneeling before the emblem of the Seven, in lighting a candle and praying for the departed soul of the previous lady of Dragonstone.

Shireen also lit candles for her dead fool and Johanna carefully hid her distaste for that. The details of Patchface, what he had been like, horrified her. She was shamefully relieved to know she would never be forced to interact with such a creature. It was an ugly feeling, but true. It was likely to have also created schisms in her relationships with both her husband and her daughter, but Johanna knew she would not have been fine with Shireen spending all her time with the fool, forsaking the company of children her own age as well as her lessons to play with him. Why the Lady Selye had not put a stop to it, Johanna would never know.

But Johanna knew herself. She would not have been fine with living within the same dwelling as him, as sad as his story had been; despite all her commitment to Septa Mordaine’s lectures on compassion for the less fortunate, the mere description of Patchface sent shivers down Johanna’s spine. While she would have seen to his care, she would not have been able to abide having him live within Dragonstone. Something inside her told her that the man hadn’t been right. In all honesty, the surety of that frightened her and so she was content to put it out of her mind.

But Shireen had considered Patchface her friend and so Johanna never said a word against her lighting a candle in memory of him. Everyone, after all, should have someone to grieve for them.

Johanna lit her own candles when she went to the sept alongside Shireen. One for the Lady Selyse, of course, and the second for her own mother.

In Winterfell, the name Ashara Dayne had never even been whispered. She had not even heard of the lady before she had gone south. It was not until she set foot inside the Red Keep and heard the whispers between two servants, gossiping about Johanna’s unknown mother, that she learned the lady’s name.

And then she learned too much.

‘ _Is this what you feared to tell me, Father?_ ’ she wondered to herself, lying awake on the nights she returned from the sept. ‘ _That you took me and my mother flung herself from a tower in despair?_ ’

It couldn’t be. Surely Father would never do such a thing. But if it was true … Oh, but if it was true …

Johanna was torn between her desire to know her mother’s name and never wanting her father to speak of it. How could any child forgive such a thing? And yet, he was her father and she loved him.

And so, while the Faith of the Seven still brought her no comfort, she had come to love Dragonstone’s elaborate sept. Lighting a candle brought Johanna peace. The sept itself, with its painted glass and rich red velvet, its beautifully carved dragons, the titled mosaic of the Seven pointed star, and its sweet ocean breeze and the scent of candles brought Johanna peace.

Dragonstone itself brought her peace.

The castle was magnificent, rivaling Winterfell in dignity and history. Valaryians had built it and the Targaryens had planned their conquest from it. To some, the carved dragons and gargoyles would have been frightening, but Johanna merely admired the detailed work of the scupltures. The magnificence of the castle put a smile on her face. She found favorite rooms and places in every turn.

With careful eyes, Johanna had begun to go over Dragonstone’s holdings and finances. Despite being the least of the Great Houses and their holdings, Dragonstone was not poor. While only six other houses were sworn to it, Dragonstone actually had a modest wealth to its name. It was with surprise that Johanna realized that, despite not having a tenth of Winterfell’s rank or standing, Dragonstone’s wealth was nearly equal to Winterfell’s. The North had always lived comfortingly within its means, having no use for anything but what would help its people survive winter. The North - and the Starks foremost - hoarded food, not gold. The South, on the other hand, was full of lavish wealth and riches. It traded on gold and other metals and mined for them with a hunger. It made her wonder, just a bit, if the North had such hidden wealth to it as well, ones that simply went untapped and unlooked for because its people had no use for them.

With a great deal of care, Johanna had calculated a conservative maximum amount it would cost to refurnish Dragonstone. She wanted so to go about replacing the old and worn furniture with new, have craftsmen carve out more windows to let more light pool in, and send off orders of new weavings and plants to add more color to the old castle. The Maesters and the castellan had gone over her calculations and all three agreed to the numbers and her estimation. It would take five years, the amount of years she figured it would take to amass the amount in question, but in five years she could have a Dragonstone that was home to her not just in spirit, but in trappings as well. Buoyed by their support, she went to her husband.

"The math is sound, my lady," he had remarked after reviewing it. "You were taught well."

He sounded approving.

She smiled. “Then do you agree, my lord?”

Slowly, her lord husband nodded. “I give my consent. Your calculations are well thought out and you have not tended to excess. I have no objections. The care of Dragonstone, after all, is yours to manage as you see fit.”

Something warm and tender had blossomed in her chest at that. Even days later the memory of it made her smile and brought color to her cheeks. Every day she found new things to fall in love with. Her heart was fit to burst.

She loved the beach and the cove she had found, perfectly secure and secluded where she could practice her training. She loved the well-worn trails which crisscrossed the island, suited to leisurely horseback riding or day trips with Shireen. She loved the village which populated Dragonstone, so like the winter town which stood beneath the walls of her father’s house. But most of all, she loved the garden and the small area being cleared and grown for her.

Before they had left the North, her father had took her aside and revealed his wedding gift to her. He had sent ahead a weirwood to Dragonstone.

Breathless, she had stared at him before lurching forward to cling to him. His arms had wrapped around her, holding her tight.

“Be safe, child,” he had whispered. “Be happy.”

“I will,” she swore. “I love you.”

“And I you,” he had choked out, his voice rough.

At the edge of the garden, full of carefully tended bushes and strong pines, a godswood was being grown for her.

She knelt now before the growing weirwood and felt a deep sense of peace enter her, as it always did.

“This is our home now,” she whispered to it. “I hope you like it as much as I do.” 


	6. Letters to Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: This chapter is the same as the full work that was uploaded on 12/15/2014 when the fic was first posted all at once. It has been heavily edited and broken into proper chapters. Enjoy it if you reread~~_

* * *

 

*

Dearest Sansa,

I have arrived at Dragonstone! It is quite different from King’s Landing which was a lovely place, I must confess and pray you will not be too jealous of me, dear sister. Oh, Sansa, you would be so pleased by it! King’s Landing is magnificent and full of people and fashion, just as we have always been told! There are more people then I knew what to do with-it is like everywhere I turned there was some person I had never seen or heard of before! So different than our little world back in Winterfell, to be sure.

The dresses here are as beautiful as they are colorful, so many hues of red and yellow and such dazzling cuts they have! You will despair to know that I cling to my dark dresses of black and blue with the odd white but I am a creature of habit, as you well know. Still, I will not say no to my preferred colored dresses in the Southern fashion. Hopefully that will entice you to think more fondly of me!

We stayed only three nights and two and a half days in King’s Landing before taking our leave but I committed the details in my mind in order to tell you all about it. You may thank me at your leisure. I jest, I jest! But, truly, the throne room is a sight to behold. Its vastness and the sense of history took my breath away. But those are not the details you want, are they, sweetling? Well, let us see how good my memory is. First, I will assure you that the Queen’s wardrobe remained as wonderful and glamorous as it did at Winterfell…

…I hope that was enough detail for you because my hand is beginning to ache! I have filled two pages of details about King’s Landing and yet, to tell the truth, I do not know if I am painting an adequate enough picture of it! It is a magnificent city, Sansa. I hope one day you will get the chance to see it.

Until my next letter,

Johanna 

 

*

To my sweet Bran,

There now, little brother, have I embarrassed you sufficiently enough? I hope so! Think fondly of my teasing for I fear it will be many years before I have a chance to run my fingers through your hair and ruin all your hard work again! How has everything been with you? Still climbing every tree and structure that catches your eye? I hope not! You know how it has always worried both me and your mother! Still, I have faith in you to know your limits and to be a careful climber. Do not prove me wrong!

How are your lessons going? I cannot imagine you being anything less than a diligent student, for you always are one. Has archery gone any better for you yet? Theon may be a jerk but he is an excellent archer. Do ask him for advice if you need any but take Robb with you. He’ll be more inclined to help if our brother is there as well.

You would enjoy Dragonstone, I think. It is built out of cliffs that almost seem to soar. They are imposing but majestic all the same. And yet I think all you would see is the many handholds that they offer, mmm? But, truly, there is a sense of history here that would fascinate you. So many stories to be told! I cannot wait to learn them.

Sansa received my longest letter this time around so feel free to pester her for as vivid a description of King’s Landing as I could manage. You would be so impressed with all the knights here! I have heard several mentions of an upcoming turnery; you will be pleased to know. Hopefully I will be able to attend and then tell you all the details! 

Sleep well always,

Johanna

 

*

Dear Arya,

Alas little sister, I have not managed yet to find anytime to continue with my training. I hope once I have settled in at Dragonstone, at which I have now arrived, that I will be able to continue. The beach is wide and empty, a perfect place I think for some clandestine swordplay! Remember, do not annoy Robb too much to let you tag along to his lessons or else he will not take you!

How have your own lessons been going? Ah, do not make that face! You know it is important for you to learn Septa Mordane’s teachings as well. If for no other reason than to make your mother happy! It is reason enough, I assure you. Also, I hope you and Sansa are getting along better. At the very least, try not to pull so many pranks on her, now that I am no longer there to help you not get caught! My letter this time was longer to Sansa as I described King’s Landing in all its glory to her as well as I could. I do not know if you will be interested in it but I knew it would be important to her.

I expect I will be getting the chance to see a turnery soon. It will be fascinating to get the chance. I have always liked observing the way others fight. You may think it is boring, as I am well aware you do, but it is always good to watch others. You can pick up quite a few things that way…

And to answer the question you posed in your last letter, yes, my impertinent sister, my husband continues to treat me well. Fear not, sister! You do not need to come to my rescue!

Keep well, 

Johanna

 

*

Robb,

Arrived at Dragonstone. I think I’m in love.

Yes, it’s just as dreary as Father warned us but there’s some both beautiful and sad about its fading glory. Every day I settle in here a little more and I am much relieved by it. This will be my home now, though Winterfell will always keep a large part of my heart with it. I would like to add some weavings to the place for the walls are so bare here but I have yet to broach the subject with Stannis. There’s so much to take in! It’s daunting to remember that I am in charge of the household here, now. Do not laugh at my worries brother or I shall do the same when the time comes for Father to include you more and more in the running of the North!

I have met with Shireen. I have no problems with my stepdaughter and am endeavoring to befriend her. That goes well as poor Shireen is absolutely starved for any type of friendship. I shall have to find some mischief for her to get in, possibly with some of Ser Davos’s sons. She is simply far too solemn for a girl of her age.

Have I truly broken Smalljon’s heart? Ha! I had no idea he was so taken with me! After all, we have only spoken a few times and even then, very little was said! It is a bit flattering but I suspect he will get over it soon enough. I do not think I will be coming North for quite some time.

Stannis will be returning to King’s Landing soon, to answer his duties there but I will not be accompanying him. I prefer the quiet of Dragonstone to the bustle of the Court. Travelling with them was long and tiring. I fear it will be some months before I want to be closed in with all of them again. Do not tell Sansa though! No doubt our sister will think me mad but it is true.

I know you are suspicious to what about the Court that I find tiresome but turn your thoughts from that, brother. It will do no good and I will not have you upsetting Father for my sake. Do not scowl! You know just as well as I that it will do no one any good.

Give my love to Rickon,

Johanna

 

*

Theon,

I see now why you miss the sea. She’s beautiful.

 Johanna

 

*

Dear Father,

We have arrived at Dragonstone. I have met Shireen and found her to be a lovely girl with unfortunate luck. I think she and I will be great friends, she is so starved for contact and especially a female one at that! I am making strides with the household and do thank Lady Stark for me-her lessons will be my salvation, I think. I hope you and everyone continue to do well.

Johanna

P.S. I love you.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: This chapter is the same as the full work that was first posted on 12/15/2014. I have edited it and broken it up into chapters. Enjoy it if you are rereading~_

* * *

 

 

It was with great reluctance that Stannis returned to King’s Landing a month after arriving back at Dragonstone. He was with only his small group of servants and knights and without his wife. His young wife had demurred, claiming to want more time to settle fully into Dragonstone, but both knew she just wanted to avoid the King a little longer.

She had obviously not forgotten the humiliation of being groped during the celebrations of her wedding by her royal goodbrother, as evident of the face she made every time Robert was mentioned, and Stannis had not forgotten Robert’s behavior, either.

It should have been with relief, then, that Stannis greeted her decision to stay behind, but while some part of him was relieved, a larger part of Stannis was disappointed. He was beginning to grow used to his wife’s presence and he was certainly enjoying the livelier atmosphere she brought to Dragonstone.

The household was beginning to grow used to her polite but kind ways, answering her questions about their days and their work; chattering easily with her and no longer shying away from conversation. They were as charmed with her as Stannis was and he did not regret that. She was so determined to both be a part of Dragonstone and make everyone around her happy that Stannis could not help but be charmed by her.

No one else had ever done so in his presence.

Maester Cressen adored her and she was sweet to the old man in return, to the point where the old maester was willingly sharing tales of Stannis’s youth and the girl in turn shared stories of her misadventures with her siblings.

Stannis would have put a stop to it but Shireen enjoyed the tales … He did not often know what to do with his daughter and her scars only made it more awkward between them. He could not begrudge his little daughter this joy, as small as it was. 

And so he endured it, glad that there were far more embarrassing stories about Renly than himself.

His young wife also refused to let dinners be the silent and solemn affairs of the past. She was frequently engaging Shireen in conversation and inviting others to dine with them, Ser Davos and his sons being the most common guests.

Shireen was glowing under the attention paid to her and the two were often found together, Shireen trailing after Johanna as she saw to her household duties and even shyly contributing to her conversations with the servants. When Johanna had her free moments, the two were often found on the beach, collecting shells and running barefoot through the waves.

Her laughter was filling up the dark corridors of Dragonstone.

They had slept together for two months in the same bedroom and tent but had not lain together since that first night.

This was until the night before Stannis’s departure. She had boldly come to their bed, and Stannis admired her courage and passion far too much to turn her away. She was his wife now, for all the differences in their ages. He would not deny her so simple a thing, not when it was both of their duty to do so.

Besides, he was … very fond of her boldness. It was no hardship to let her lead in their encounters, for all her inexperience.

He docked early in King’s Landing and stoically endured Robert’s greetings. “Johanna decided not to come with you?” Robert asked, clearly disappointed and much too familiar about Stannis’s wife without being asked. Stannis’s jaw clenched.

“My _wife_ ,” he could not help the emphasis, “is still acquainting herself with our household. Perhaps next time,” he said stiffly.

“Good, good. I’ll be happy to see her again,” his elder brother said, his meaning clear. Knowing how much Johanna was embarrassed by his brother’s intentions just made Stannis even more irritated by them.

“She’ll be delighted to hear that,” he retorted, the sarcasm flying over Robert’s head and no one else’s. Cersei almost smiled. It was highly disorienting.

Tommen and Myrcella, however, were genuinely disappointed that Johanna had not come with him, but Stannis dutifully carried her note to which seemed to make them content. Stannis marveled again that such a likeable pair of children could come from Robert and Cersei.

“Do give her our love, when you go back to see her,” Myrcella pleaded with him, as though it was a foregone conclusion that Stannis would be eager to return to Johanna.

He did not correct his niece, instead assuring her that he would do so.

Joffrey, of course, was as obnoxious as Stannis distantly remembered Robert being at that age: certain of himself without having yet proven himself.

It was quite tiresome.

The only thing Stannis was surprised by was a conversation with his younger brother. He and Renly did not often speak to one another, having no real interests in common besides making sure Robert did not make a mess of the Realm, and so they both politely avoided the other. But late one evening in his second week back in King’s Landing, Renly sought him out.

“I’m not surprised Johanna chose not to come,” Renly told him, chuckling yet managing to seem sympathetic at the same time. “There are quite a few who won’t soon forget how our brother acted during the celebrations.”

“Indeed,” Stannis said darkly. The look of indignant, horrified shock on his wife’s face when Robert had laid his hands and lips on her was very likely not going to be soon forgotten. By anyone other than Robert, that is.

Stannis certainly was not going to forget.

“Still, I would like to see her again, if only to get to know my new sister. She certainly seems more agreeable than Cersei! Perhaps Ser Loras and I will pay a visit to Dragonstone? I did promise her wedding gifts, after all,” Renly mused.

Ignoring the mention of Ser Loras, as he always did so he did not have to acknowledge it, Stannis said, “She would likely welcome such a visit, as would Shireen.” He sat back behind the desk he was given while in King’s Landing, shuffling through some loose papers. “And take care not to speak of the Queen like that where others can hear you.”

“Yes, yes,” Renly said, waving a hand dismissively, leaning against the soft wood and showing no sign of letting Stannis get on with his missives.

Two weeks later, however, Renly left for a visit to Dragonstone and Stannis was truly surprised. He had not thought his younger brother would actually go. He was relieved, though, that he had his mornings to himself again. Renly, for some unfathomable reason, had taken to dropping in for tea shortly after breakfast. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised that he left to visit – they had only ever spoken of Johanna.

(He, again, ignored that Ser Loras had gone with him, even as the Court tittered about it. Idiots, the lot of them)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: This chapter is the same as the full work that was posted on 12/15/2014. I have edited it and broken it up into chapters. Enjoy it if you are rereading!_

* * *

 

 

“Welcome to Dragonstone, my lords,” Johanna greeted her guests pleasantly with a low curtsey in their direction. “I hope your trip was not too tiresome?”

“Not at all,” Renly smiled at her. “And it was well worth the effort of it, for so warm a greeting!”

It was a clear day, with the sun reflecting upon the water and only a few straggling clouds in the sky. Johanna loved Dragonstone best under the sun’s glow. Others might have found Dragonstone’s flaws exposed under the glare of the light (Cersei), but not Johanna. She thought the sunlight only gave the old castle warmth.

The new warmth well matched the handsome pair that had arrived, Johanna privately thought to herself. Both were good looking and had excellent manners, and they easily coaxed smiles from both the staff and Shireen. But Johanna found that their company only made her miss her too serious husband more. She enjoyed Stannis’s dour moods, she was startled to realize. She liked that she could gently tease him into a rare smile; for his smiles had started to make her heart flip in her chest.

Still, she thought of how pleased Sansa would be to look upon Ser Loras and resolved to send a letter to her little sister with the praises of Highgarden’s youngest son. No doubt Sansa would enjoy reading it.

Her goodbrother and Ser Loras had arrived after a low storm had passed and the scent of rain still hung in the air. After being cooped up inside Dragonstone for a week, Johanna was glad of the new company, but also disappointed Stannis had not come with them. She did her best not to let it show on her face and, instead, showed Lord Renly and Ser Loras to their rooms.

They were too tired to dine the first night, even though the travel had not been too intense, one would have thought. So Shireen and her dined alone. The next night, however, was much more like the dinners Johanna had shared with her siblings in Winterfell - loud and full of laughter.

She thought of Stannis again, and how he would likely always be too serious to enjoy such lively meals, but it only made her smile fondly. It was silly to miss a man she was just beginning to know but she did miss him. In a short amount of time, he had become important to her. Already she had started to include him in the small circle of people dearest to her.

Renly was a much livelier and courteous version of both his brothers and Johanna enjoyed his easy company. Ser Loras was equally charming and kept his eyes on Renly throughout the meal, in a way that reminded her of something she could not quite place. His gaze was soft and sweet when he looked at Renly, though, and it made Johanna like him more for it.

Their meal was not all light hearted stories and jests, however, as she and Renly also gently tested the waters, getting to know one another.

“What do you think of Dragonstone?” Renly asked politely after a few humorous antecedotes.

Johanna smiled freely, unashamed at the way the old castle made her feel. “I love it here,” she said honestly.

Renly eyed her with surprise, sensing her honesty, and even Ser Loras and Shireen darted quick, disbelieving looks at her, but Johanna did not mind.

“You don’t find it too dark and bare?” he asked her seriously. “Most your age would, though I admit, that it does suit my brother’s temperament quite well.”

She shot him a disapproving look but was unable to hide her amusement. “Behave,” she chided and Renly only grinned back unrepentantly. “Dragonstone could use some new tapestries, it’s true,” she admitted. “But I love the history and feel of this place. To me, it feels like coming home.”

Renly smiled kindly at that. “I never thought of it that way but I suppose Dragonstone and Winterfell are quite similar in some regards. But as for adding some new color to this old place, I believe I can help you with that.”

Ser Loras grinned knowingly. Shireen perked up with interest.

Johanna eyed Renly and smirked.

“Oh? I have recently spoken with the Maesters about redecorating.” She paused and put an elbow down on the table. It was unladylike, but so was the skeptical look she threw at Renly as she placed her chin on her hand. “But, please, if you have some ideas. Do go on, my lord,” she said with a glint in her eyes.

*

 

For a long moment, Stannis did not recognize Dragonstone. His wife, daughter and younger brother had all written to him say that they were beginning to redecorate Dragonstone, along with some minor renovations - Renly being impertinent enough to say that Stannis had no choice in the matter. He had sent a blistering letter in response to his younger brother’s cheek, but had assured his wife and daughter that he did not mind as long as they did not exceed the funds made available to them.

“Well,” Ser Davos breathed. “That’s quite a sight, my lord. The ladies must have enjoyed themselves.”

He nodded in agreement, staring at the huge banners draping Dragonstone. Where had they even gotten them from in the first place? The banners were large and hung from the roof to about midway down, on either side of what Stannis knew to be the great door which opened into the entrance hall. They were the Baratheon colors, black with a golden stag in the middle which was clearly visible from the shore. He could see also as they drew closer that they had planted bushes and small trees along the walkway and he wondered if the flora was the long promised wedding gift from Highgarden. Possibly. He was sure he would be informed, either way.

His wife and daughter awaited him at the door, his brother and his ‘dear’ friend waiting behind them. He could not see much through the open door, but he could see a small table with the figure of a golden stag resting on top of it. It did not seem too bad and he had said they could decorate as they pleased.

“My lord husband,” Johanna greeted him in a clear and strong voice, as merry as a twinkling bell. She looked to him expectantly and Stannis’s lips twitched ever so slightly as he obligingly tilted his head to gave her the kiss she expected of him.

It was gentle and light, the warmth of her lips brief against his, soft and sweet. Desire spiked low in his belly as he felt her sigh against him.

“My lady wife,” he murmured his greeting once they parted. She smiled up at him, her cheeks pinking.

He greeted Shireen next and she was bubbly in delight, the happiest he had ever seen his daughter. Fondness for his young wife grew in his heart at the sight. Renly’s greeting was warm and bright, surprising Stannis into returning that warmth. He was surprised by the fondness his brother looked at him with; he had not seen such a thing from Renly in many years.

Renly seemed … happy. Happy to be here, and happy to see Stannis, even.

He hadn’t known he could be glad to be in the company of either of his brothers before. It was strange and oddly nice.

They took a tour of the newly furnished Dragonstone and Stannis was glad they had already taken in his more subdued tastes when they decided upon the décor. They added rich tapestries depicting the history of Westeros, with an emphasis towards House Baratheon. Yellow cushions were added to the furniture, both old and new, along with replica roses which made Stannis give an innocent looking Renly a long look.

The roses were elaborately made of glass and those scattered about the halls and rooms were either black or white in color. It made him sigh internally, though he resolved to allow his sentimental brother his amusements. However, in the hallway which led to the family quarters, the roses were different. They were a rich blue in color. Winter roses, he thought, and they made his wife smile softly, a gentle and loving look on her face.

Later, that look would lead Stannis to making one of the first requests he had ever made of his brother - to order more of the blue replica roses to be made. It made Renly look at him with warm approval.

She opened herself to him that night, her eyes hooded as she settled herself against the pillows of their bed. A mixture of courage and steel with the hesitancy of youth still clinging to her.

“My lady,” he greeted her, admiring the new furnishings in his bedroom. The furniture had all been replaced with newer, nicer ones and the fabrics were softer and more elegant; he had never liked decadence but he approved at seeing that, while the furniture was of better quality, it was built to last and not for extravagance.

She hesitated only a moment before quietly speaking.

“When we are alone,” she said softly, “may I call you Stannis?”

He felt the spark of desire return as she said his name, and he sat down roughly on the bed next to her. “If you wish to, you may,” he whispered hoarsely.

She smiled at him, confidence in her movement. “Then, Stannis, you should call me Johanna.”

“Johanna,” he repeated and she moved, pulling him down into a fierce kiss. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: This chapter is the same as the full fic that was posted on 12/15/2014. I have edited it and broke it into chapters. Enjoy if you are rereading~~_

* * *

 

 

In her heart, it disappointed her that she did not immediately become pregnant.

It had only taken Lady Stark once before she became pregnant with Robb, but Johanna was unsure how many times it took her. She thought perhaps after the third time she had lain with her husband, but it might have been the fourth or fifth time, which had followed in rapid subsequence as she and Stannis began open up in their explorations of each other.

(Stannis still let her lead their sexual encounters. It made her feel courageous and powerful and she loved it.)

Three months since her husband’s return from King’s Landing and ten months into her marriage, Johanna began to become ill from morning to midday, after she had missed her courses twice.

She reminded herself to not rush to conclusions and to be cautious with her hopes, for it would be utterly awful to be disappointed in them. But, in the third month, Johanna went to Maester Cresson and prepared, secretly, to hope. In this she was not disappointed. Her joy at the news was immense and powerful.

She touched her stomach, marveling at the idea that in the coming months there would be visible sign of the babe growing inside her; more, that she would become a mother - the one thing she had always wanted for herself and yet never had.

_‘You will know me_ ,’ she thought fiercely to her growing child, ‘ _you will know my name and my story_.’

Johanna waited in what she called the viewing room, a room that only had one wall, allowing for an unhampered view of the ocean from the large windows. She had commissioned it with her husband in mind. It was _her_ favorite room, however, and her second favorite place in Dragonstone, with Aegon’s Garden being the first.

She settled into one of the couches, absently tracing one of the replica winter roses Ser Loras had given her as a wedding gift. She grew pensive as she sat against the cushions, one hand still on her lower stomach, marveling at the changes in her life that had occurred in less than a year. Her life had gone from her comfortable existence in Winterfell to something more. She felt alive here at Dragonstone, where no nightmares about the crypts and the cold eyes of the dead ever bothered her. There was no feeling in Dragonstone as there had been in Winterfell - the feeling that she did not belong.

She belonged in Dragonstone. She could feel it, deep in her bones. This was where she belonged.

It must not have taken the Maester long to give her husband the news. She heard footsteps approach and she tore her gaze from the waves to glance toward the corridor. She knew it was him before he entered the room. After so long, she was beginning to recognize his stride. More than that, she had learnt it. It was just one more thing she hungered to know about Stannis. She wanted this man and his respect as she had never wanted anything before.

It was not like any love she had heard of before. The songs made love out to be a need, but the hunger Johanna felt for Stannis was pure want. She wanted him, she wanted to know him and she wanted him by her side. She might not need him in the ways the bards sing about, but she did want him.

“Johanna,” he said as he came to her, his face impassive. “You are well?”

She looked up to him and grinned. “I am well.” She reached up to pull at his arm, making room for him on the couch. He ducked his head in silent agreement and made to wrap his arms around her as they sat. She kissed him then, slow and sweet, and once they parted, she told him her news.

“I am with child.”

This time, he was the one who kissed her.

The reactions of the others were equally joyful once she and Stannis announced the pregnancy.

Shireen gasped and clapped in delight, Ser Loras warmly shook Stannis’s hand and congratulated both of them, as did Ser Davos, though he also hugged Johanna. Renly hugged both of them - much to Stannis’s shock and displeasure and everyone else’s amusement - and Johanna had to blink away the sudden welling of tears that his whispered “Congratulations, sister” caused in her.

She felt a strong surge of joy and she laughed and clapped her hands, beaming at the people around her. At her new family. She touched her stomach again and leaned into Stannis’s side. 

She had finally found a place of her own. 

 

 


	10. Letters from Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: This chapter is the same from when the fic was first posted on 12/15/2014. I have edited it and broken it up into chapters. Enjoy if you are rereading~_

* * *

 

 

*

Dear Johanna,

Oh congratulations! We received your news and I am so excited for you! You are going to be a wonderful mother, I just know it!

With so much love,

Sansa

 

*

Dear Johanna,

I’m going to be an uncle? Congratulations! It’s neat, to think that I’m going to be an uncle. I hope you’re well.

Write back soon,

Bran 

 

*

Johanna,

A baby? That’s good, I guess, as long as you’re happy with it. If you’re happy, I’m happy. You seemed happy though, in your announcement, so I’m glad.

Arya 

 

*

Johanna,

Already? Wow. I really wasn’t expecting that. Congratulations, little sister. I know you have to be excited and we’re all excited here for you. Father wants us all to keep it short since he’ll be using ravens but I promise we’ll be sending you longer letters soon!

Proud to be an uncle and your loving brother,

Robb

 

*

Dear Johanna,

I am pleased to hear your news. My congratulations to both you and Stannis and my well wishes to you both. Be careful with your health while you are carrying and do not be afraid to ask for any help. Take care of yourself and I will see if any of us will be able to come down for either the birth or your child’s presentation at court.

All of our love,

Lord Eddard Stark

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _inkspottedtea [beta note]: Hope you enjoyed this version of A Maiden Dark and Fair! New content will be posted in part 2 of the series sometime next week. Thank you all for your support and wonderful comments! <3_


End file.
